


A Mother's Love

by ElfMaidenOfLight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arkanis Academy (Star Wars), Armitage Hux (Mentioned) - Freeform, Brendol Hux (mentioned) - Freeform, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Hux Zine, Maratelle Hux (mentioned) - Freeform, Starkiller - Freeform, Starkiller zine, dark themes, it's sad, seige of Arkanis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight
Summary: Hux's mother searches for her young son amid the Republic's raid on the Arkanis Academy.For the 'Starkiller' Hux zine.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	A Mother's Love

~*~

The air raid siren tore through the cloudy afternoon, an ever-repeating wave of terrible, piercing sound.

The grounds of the Academy were a deserted, decimated warzone. Bodies littered the upturned earth; cadets, officers, and academy personnel were cut down as they fled, pinned under rubble, or blown apart by raining artillery.

A lone figure sprinted across the square, in the opposite direction of the retreating, evacuating masses. The woman, honey-red hair streaming, clambered around the debris, her uniformed skirts streaked with dirt and blood that was not her own.

As the ruined building of the Commandant’s quarters came into view, roof buckled and collapsed inward, second-story windows blown out to the sky, she nearly sank to her knees with dread.

“Armitage!”

The scream of his name ripped from her chest, voice breaking, words swept away by the roar of ion engines passing low overhead.

She collapsed against the ruined doorway of the building, throwing herself inside despite the rumble of bombs dropping in the distance; even as the ruins around her shook alarmingly.

Her heart stilled at a flash of pale skin in the room beyond, cold and fragile looking as it peeked out from under bits of broken duracrete and a topped-over bookcase.

No. No, no, no.

Scrambling forward in the debris, uncaring as shards of glass and twisted metal cut into the flesh around her bare ankles. She waded across the room. Taking hold of the shelving unit with a strength she did not know she could possess, she pushed it away, grunting with strain.

Looking down, her breath caught.

There, lifeless eyes open and face matted with blood, was the body of Maratelle Hux.

For a moment, looking at the corpse, all she could hear was her own, ragged breathing.

Despite the carnage and the roil in the pit of her stomach that nearly made her retch, a flash of hope surged through her.

There was a chance.

He could still be alive.

Turning, she dashed from the ruins.

She’d only just seen him yesterday; her son. Not up close, for she was never allowed to speak to the boy once Brendol had taken him. But she’d watched, from one of the kitchen’s windows, as the nanny droid followed him around the grounds, hair flashing brilliant and red in the rare Arkanis sunlight.

He’d tried to reach down and pull at the grass on the common’s lawn, only to overbalance and rock back to thud gently on his bottom. For a moment he seemed stunned, and then began to fuss. But there was no one there to give him comfort; only the nanny droid, tethered to him by a safety harness.

Oh, how she’d wanted to run to him then. To hold him. She ached with it, the desire to gather the warmth of him in her arms; like she’d done years ago when he’d been a newborn.

Armitage had been a happy infant before his father had taken him. She cherished the fond memories of them together; the way he would sleep in a sling against her back as she worked in the kitchens, the movement of her body lulling him to slumber. At night, on her small cot in the servant’s quarters, she would swaddle him close to her chest, tracing his chubby cheeks with a gentle finger; smiling down at him when he blinked his wide, pale green eyes at her.

So beautiful, her son. Her first child. Her only child.

Brendol had waited until Armitage was weaned before coming to her and demanding she relinquish the baby.

The man had given her a simple choice. He was going to take Armitage one way or another. She could fight him and he would send her away, off-planet, or she could comply and stay on in the kitchens.

She’d submitted. At least that way, she’d thought, she could watch him from afar.

And even though she could not touch him, she’d found ways to reach him all the same, even if Armitage didn’t know it. The kitchen supervisor allowed her to prepare his meals once he was on solid food. She couldn’t express to him her gratitude and took immense pleasure in preparing the child-sized portions.

Some days, she would cut the wide, round slices of root vegetables into little flowers. Or score the tiny sausages on one end, so that when they boiled, the strands would curl up, reminiscent of the life in the oceans off their coast.

An extra bit of nectar on his porridge to sweeten it for him.

A funny face toasted into the sandwich bread, traced in butter so it would brown.

She never saw him take his meals, didn’t know if it were Maratelle or the nanny droid that fed him, but she’d hoped her love would reach him all the same.

Out in the courtyard, there was another rumble, an explosion of bombs, and one of the classroom buildings far across the lawn listed sideways, tumbling into the dormitory beside it. The power of the blast sent her stumbling against the wall; she held on for dear life.

Eventually, everything became still again, save for the sounds of aircraft buzzing. Scraps of paper, blown out from the pulverized structure, fluttered down from the sky.

She coughed, hands going to her knees as the near-vaporized contents sucked to her lungs.

_ Armitage. _

She had to focus.

Maratelle was left behind, but there had been no sign of Brendol.

The Commandant…

Had… had he already escaped? With their child?

Something cold pounded through her.

Impossible. Brendol didn’t give a flying kriff about his son’s wellbeing. No, Armitage was still there, somewhere, cowering from all the loud noise. She was sure of it.

Not long ago, she’d found him hiding in the kitchen cellars having evidently evaded the nanny droid. He had startled her as she came around the sacks of dried beans, seeing him there with his knees pulled up, silent as stone.

“Are you alright?” She’d asked softly, lowering to squat so she could see him better.

He’d looked frightened and it had lanced such pain through her heart. She knew how Brendol could be. She knew better than anyone, save perhaps for the man’s frigid wife.

“Don’t you want to come out of there?” She continued when he was silent.

“I don’t like the droid,” he muttered eventually.

She gasped quietly at the sound of his voice, unable to stop tears from welling in her eyes. He wasn’t able to perfectly pronounce all the words, but he was sophisticated in his language for a child of five. Oh, he was brilliant.

She smiled. “I know, they can be quite scary, can’t they?” He looked up at her with wide, green eyes.

“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand, “let’s get you some frozen cream, hm? We have chocolate,” she added, smiling as his expression brightened.

When he took her hand, she held it tight.

She was entranced by him the entire time he ate, sitting there across the tiny employee’s table at the back of the kitchen. He very nearly smeared his face with the dessert; she’d smiled softly to herself.

Perhaps that’s where he was now, she thought, hiding in the cellars once again…

Before she could reach the mess hall there came a sharp whistling, and somewhere over her shoulder, near the Academy’s entrance, the world exploded into fire.

The blast sent her flying forward, tumbling and then skidding upon the ground into a twisted mess of debris. Pain blossomed over her side, head cracking hard upon the ground.

Instantly, a stinging buzz filled her ears.

The pain and dizziness were so great that it made her nauseous and for a moment she struggled to even understand where she was or what was happening, all sense shredded from the blast.

Groaning, she struggled to her feet, wincing, hand flying to her side, where her fingers met with a wet warmth. She’d caught herself on some jagged metal in her tumbling; it had sliced open her dress and the skin underneath, blood beginning to soak into the fabric.

The sight of it made her woozy; faint.

No, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t rest. Even as her body begged for it.

Her son was all she had and he needed her. The roaring drive of a mother’s love fueled her slow, uneven steps into a limping walk, then a painful run, bearing her towards the Academy’s canteen even as her hands gripped her wounded side.

The mess hall was deserted. She sprinted across the disordered room, tables and chairs toppled over from the hasty evacuation, floor covered in grime from quake-loosened dust.

“Armitage!”

Bursting through to the kitchen beyond, she made her way to the back. She almost slipped around the corner, flying down the staircase and into the cellars.

“Armitage!” She called for him in the dark, moving farther into the back room.

She tried waking the bank of overhead lights, but the power wasn’t working.

Blindly, she pressed forward, tripping over a crate.

“Armitage, please!” Her voice caught, pitching high, desperate.

Rounding the sacks of dried goods, she found his usual hiding place empty.

Where was he? Where could he be?

Damn that Brendol.  _ Damn him! _

She whirled around, pushing back past the sacks, her hands slick against the burlap, leaving smears of red behind her. Despite her pain and fatigue, sudden rage fueled her strength.

That brutish man who had flirted with her, wanted her, made promises to her. She was such a fool to believe he would leave his wife; give her a better life.

He’d just wanted to use her. Throw her away afterward.

She was terrified at being pregnant with his child, but no, she wouldn’t allow Brendol to take away her joy.

She’d named him Armitage, after her father.

The world around her rumbled, breaking her out of her stupor. To her shock, she realized that she’d almost slipped entirely into memory, having paused to lean for a moment against one of the cellar walls.

She was so tired… she’d just needed a second to collect herself, but as the sounds of the siege roared close by, she was stunned to realize she hadn’t the faintest idea how long she’d been resting there.

Woozy, feeling the wetness now in her shoe, blood running down her leg, she forced herself back to her feet.

Armitage.

She could almost see him, a faint little echo of him, running up the tilting cellar stairs in front of her, back up to the first floor.

Eyes heavy, she smiled, ready to run after him.

“Armitage?” She called, but her voice was quickly drowned out by an intense rumbling and a rapidly building whistling noise. There came a sharp stab of panic then; she knew what that sound meant.

Terror spiking, she made a dash for the staircase, just as the ordinance dropped onto the building above her.

Her whole world exploded, throwing her forward, the weight of the rubble pinning her against the staircase as the entire structure came collapsing down around her.

Everything went black, for how long, she did not know, but even as her consciousness came back to her she couldn’t move. Something heavy held her down. She gasped for air but found she could not breathe.

If she could have looked up then, through what had once been the cellar’s ceiling and first floor, she’d have seen grey sky now hanging above, clouds latticed with contrails.

Desperate, she tried to pull herself free, but could not find the strength.

Perhaps… perhaps if she just rested, just for a moment, she would soon have enough energy to move.

Then she could find him.

Her son.

She just had to rest.

For just a moment.

There, in the near-quiet, with rumblings in the distance, she thought of him.

Armitage.

She could feel the weight of him on her back. He was heavy, warm, while she stood over the kitchen stoves, babbling in her ear and tugging on her hair, trying to pull it into his mouth. Gently, she extracted her errant locks from his chubby little fingers.

She smiled, hand curling where it rested upon the ground, raking lines into the gravel and dust.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my beta Brit and to the organizers who made 'Starkiller' happen. A true joy to be a part of such a fantastic project!


End file.
